Silent Alarm

 About two jobs ago, my cell phone got listed as the call number for the building's panic alarm. For the whole building so the daycare on the first floor, the revolving door business offices on second and third, and the travel agency in basement. It made great use of the glass window wells facing the outside adorning them with neon signs of palm trees and parrots. Whole pagodas and a hot pink flamingo wearing sunglasses. I worked for the building (changing lightbulbs and moving furniture around. Guiding trucks onto the small dock.) so I understood why someone volunteered my phone, but the only qualification I had was I worked there for more than two years. That seemed to be the cutoff.

I then subsequently left the job but they never changed the number. I would oddly get calls from the security company. "Is everything ok? Should we dispatch police?"

And I would have no answer save "Umm...not sure. I no longer work there."

Sometimes the agency would ask for a confirmation code. So, they could not send police. And I would also be at lost muddling in my mind for the passcode. Was it the name of the building "Altamira?" The number of the building? "3655?" The name of the owner and landlord "Millardo?" None of these worked and they would send the police for nothing. 

Someone accidentally bumped the plunger by the front lobby desk. Or a new hire wanted a chair on the left side of the welcome desk, instead of the standard right, and thought the white button was just some other geegaw to move around. 

It was always nothing. But, you never knew. Not in today's work world. I would text my former supervisor and remind him to change the number but he would ghost me. In my new job I once had to make a delivery to the third floor office (An adult GED center that took up basically the whole thing) and asked the teacher there if she knew of anyone. She did not and said she would ask her boss but that someone else took care of the business side. 

The last time they called I let is go directly to voicemail. I head the familiar voice "This is Northwest Security Service Solutions calling about a silent alarm." It was early afternoon and raining hard enough that water seeped through the weak seals of my windows. Must be something with the power like a spike or surge that caused it to spike. This time I imagined myself the hero. Cutting through the rain my black Honda Civic something much more predatory and menacing that would screech to a slide stop right by the big plate glass doors. Inside would be panic as people scramble for exits and winged villains try to snatch people away to fly through the skylight roof. There would be people fighting back. Those people I enjoyed working with or found charming. The lady on second floor (I think she worked in marketing for something. There was a print shop up there) with the long black braid and Lisa Loeb glasses would be there holding people back with a sword. Entering the fray I would not debate why I returned to some place that would not race back to me.